No Need for Armor
by ZosiaDetroit
Summary: Pre-canon one-shot. In which Achren attempts to seduce Gwydion, and finds the tables turned... then turned again. Please note that this story brushes up against an M rating. It is not explicit, and the outward action is a vehicle for a deeper character analysis, but the framing situation is, nevertheless, mature.
1. No Need for Armor

She stood tall before him—proud—haughty, even—framed by the door she had just entered and shut, adorned with jewelry from crown to toe. Broad cuffs of beaten gold and silver wrapped her wrists and ankles, and glittering rings circled every red-tipped finger. Dark rubies hung at her ears and throat, and trailed down between her breasts like fallen drops of blood. Chains as delicate as spider silk twined around her slender waist and fell in arcs across her hips. A scattering of bright stones was twisted into the silver braids of her hair, flashing with even the most subtle tilt and turn of her head. A treasure trove that any king would envy, she wore—a treasure trove, and nothing else.

Her icy eyes glinted in the light of the hearth.

From his chair across the room, Gwydion looked her over slowly, from head to foot and back again, unmoved and unsmiling.

"You do not like what you see?" Achren asked, sensing his displeasure, her voice like a knife sheathed in velvet. "Every last piece is Fair Folk craft… You do not think the effect beautiful?"

Gwydion hesitated. "I think… it is a distraction," he answered quietly. His green-flecked eyes looked squarely into the enchantress' own. "What lies beneath this armor you wear, Achren?"

Almost imperceptibly, she flinched—her back stiffened, and her crimson lips parted slightly in surprise. The change was as fleeting as a snowflake melting on a warm hand, but Gwydion knew he hadn't imagined it. And then it was gone—supplanted once more by iron, overlaid with sensuous guile.

"Why not remove it and find out?" she purred in challenge. With a faint clink of metal on metal, she stepped closer to Gwydion and extended one pale hand, palm down, on level with his gaze.

Gwydion considered her for a moment, then reached out and clasped her wrist: a war-roughened hand upon polished gold. Slowly, he pulled the cuff over her wrist-bones and past her fingers, then let it clatter to the flagstones below.

Next, went the rings. Gwydion drew Achren's proffered hand close, moving as if to bestow a kiss upon it. Then, with a flash of white, he gripped one of the faceted stones between his teeth instead, and slipped the ring from its delicate perch. Achren's eyes widened, then a smirk came to her lips. One by one, Gwydion pulled the rings off and discarded them like afterthoughts: garnet, diamond, obsidian, ruby, emerald, jet. One hand, then the other. Then the second wrist cuff, wrought in silver.

He bent low to slide the anklets off, as she raised each foot in turn. He felt Achren shiver a little as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin just below her ankle bones and upon her soles. Gwydion stood and surveyed the remaining gems, pondering which should be the next to surrender.

Decision made, he circled around behind the enchantress, swept her hair aside, then unclasped the elaborate necklace and freed her chest of its weight. It, too, he let fall to the floor—a pool of scarlet at her feet. A tingle ran up Achren's spine as Gwydion carefully withdrew each gold hook from her ears, and she felt his warm breath upon her cool neck.

Gently, then, he plucked each gemstone pin from her tresses and ran his fingers through the braids, unleashing a curtain of glistening waves over her shoulders and down her back.

Finally, he came to the chains about her waist—thinner chains than any Gwydion had ever seen, but no less binding for their delicacy. His eyes flicked back up to meet Achren's, as he reached out and twined one strand through the fingers of both hands. With a swift tug, the silver and gold links sundered. Then the next chain; and the next; and the next. Slowly, he unwound them, reaching around her waist and behind her back again and again, until every last chain slid away.

And then, he stepped back.

And there Achren stood—still tall, still proud, but with a shadow of something softer in her expression and carriage. She was stripped truly bare at last, her silvery-white hair and alabaster skin luminous in the firelight, like the moon reflecting the sun.

Silence reigned for several breaths.

"Well?" Achren asked. "What say you now?"

Gwydion nodded in approval, holding her gaze. A faint smile touched his lips and the corners of his eyes. "This is no battlefield, Achren—there is no need for armor here."

Again, a long silence fell as Achren considered his words—considered _him_. He was a wolf, as always: keen, wary, poised and powerful. And… hungry. Achren could sense it, if not quite see it: a latent, sharp-toothed hunger pacing behind his external calm.

Now it was Achren's turn to smile, knowingly. "What of your own armor, Gwydion?" she asked. Her voice was quiet and measured, but insistent nonetheless.

A flicker of confusion passed across his face—momentary weakness, quickly masked.

Achren's eyes sparked. Slowly, she strode forward, hips swaying just enough to notice. "Yes—you, too, wear armor. For all that you toy with me here, I see you wear it still: your shield of honor… and wisdom… and _restraint_." She stopped just shy of him, and pressed a hand over his breastbone. "And I wonder… What passionate heart does it protect?"

Again, she saw that brief flicker in Gwydion's countenance—not of confusion this time, but disquiet, and yearning long denied.

Achren shook her head gently. "Always the noble hero: virtuous… incorruptible… infallible, even. Do you never tire of bearing that weight? Those limits? Are you not weary of how it sets you apart—renders you untouchable?"

Gwydion shuddered reflexively as Achren trailed her sharp fingertips down the length of his torso. Her other hand combed the hair back from his temple; cradled his head. His body remained still; his tongue, silent. But his eyes smoldered.

"You have pierced _my_ shell—scattered its fragments at your feet," Achren murmured. "Will you lay your own armor down now, in trade?" She lifted her gaze, and captured his. "Will you set aside the hero awhile, and allow yourself to simply be a man?"

Gwydion swayed a little under Achren's touch; shuttered his eyes against hers; his jaw clenched. When he answered her at last, his voice was low and hoarse, frayed around the edges. "What would you have me do?"

Achren pulled him closer, brushing her lips feather-light against his ear. "Only whatever you wish, Gwydion…" she whispered, "…only whatever you wish."


	2. Author's Notes

Author's Notes:

First, shout-out to Companion Wander! Her analysis of Achren and visual interpretation of her in the graphic novel adaptation of The Book of Three sparked some key ideas and imagery for this story (including the chains around Achren's waist). She also graciously provided editorial feedback, helping me re-work this story until I had it just where I wanted it.

Now, a bit more on the headcanon for this particular story... Let it be known that I'm actually highly skeptical of the Gwydion/Achren pairing. There does appears to be _some_ sort of bond there in canon, but it never read as romantic to me, and some of Achren's dialogue strongly implies that they never met prior to their encounter in The Book of Three. _However_, it would be lying to say I am not intrigued by the notion of them having a previous relationship of sorts-it seems like that would add some interesting depth to their interactions in canon. So if, in some alternate universe, Gwydion/Achren did transpire before the events in canon, I imagine it might involve a scene like the one above.

Even in that alternate universe, the only plausible way I see a Gwydion/Achren relationship happening is if there were some specific circumstances like:

1) Gwydion met Achren without knowing her identity, and she showed him some courtesy/hospitality/attraction, giving him a positive first impression of her.

2) After Gwydion discovered her identity, she claimed (convincingly enough to make him give her the benefit of the doubt) that the tales of her cruelty were false histories perpetuated by her enemies.

3) He somehow saw a trace of what Achren was before she was corrupted by power; became heartlessly ruthless in an effort to retain that power; and embittered by Arawn's betrayal.

4) He was young enough at the time that some naïve optimism/idealism and overconfidence came into play, leading him to think his influence/care/love could rekindle whatever remained of Achren's better nature.

5) Possibly, he was already slightly vulnerable because of unrequited feelings for and regrets about someone else. (See: Red-headed princess version 1.0, in Daughter of the Sea by Companion Wanderer... which you should already be reading anyway!)

Under those sorts of circumstances, I can buy that a brief relationship might have occurred, lasting until Gwydion realized Achren was too far gone down the path of evil to turn back.

Following that line, I would read her behavior toward him in canon as a mixture of scorned-lover bitterness, blended with a lingering affection she can't quite stamp out because he was the _one_ person who saw a fragment of good left in her. I'd read his behavior toward her as disappointment/sadness that she chose not redeem herself, coupled with a refusal/inability to give up on her entirely.

Love and lust make us do some odd, irrational things. Gwydion/Achren may be unlikely, but I suppose that doesn't make it impossible. And, as it turns out, it's _really_ fun to write. ;)


End file.
